


Irresistible

by Purplesauris



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Blood, GTA V AU, Gore, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Ray-centric, Robbery, Trauma, police chases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesauris/pseuds/Purplesauris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a criminal's life there's danger. It's inevitable, unstoppable, and it rips through towns like a typhoon. No one in it's path is left unscathed, certainly not Ray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> Fall Out Boy why must you do this to me. Why must you get me distracted and make me write so much GTA AU with my favorite boys? As always, love the fic? Hate it? See a spelling error? Tell me so at purplesauris.tumblr.com or right below in the comments! Ever want to tag me in something? Just tag it with the hashtag #purplesauris on tumblr and if my tag updates properly I'll see it, or submit it to me!

Wind whips through Ray’s hair, tugs at his clothes and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this high on adrenaline since he was 18 and in his first gang. His stomach twists and drops with every sharp turn and the bike firmly trapped between his thighs rumbles and shakes with the effort of going so fast. The sound of heavy gunfire is deafening, it rattles through Ray’s head but it only adds to the euphoria and excitement of the chase. God, it’s been so long since he had so many cops on his tail and bullets whipping harmlessly past him. Ray takes a sharp turn, rocketing through Los Santos like it’s what he was born to do.

 

Ray keeps the bag of cash close to him, the strap digging into his shoulder through the material of his shirt and he really should have worn a jacket, the air is tearing at his arms and Ray can feel the beginnings of windburn. Ray hears a loud pop and then his tire is squealing and he can hear the heavy thumps of the helicopter beating the air above him. The bike shudders underneath him and instantly begins to slow with the lost traction of the tire and Ray hears the horrible grating noise of the rim scrapping over pavement. Ray panics as a police car speeds past him and breaks hard, whipping to the side just in front of Ray’s bike.

 

There’s a horrible moment where everything slows down and Ray has a moment to breathe, to pull in a big breath and yell “Fuck!” before he’s flying over the handlebars of his bike and sailing over the police car. Ray tries his best to go limp, back and shoulder slamming down on the road as he skids across the ground and yeah he really should have worn a jacket. Ray feels a pop as he automatically puts his hand out to cushion his fall and pain rips up his left arm, Ray crying out. He lays there, dazed for a moment before he dashes up, staggering as his legs wobble like they’re made of gelatin. The bag is even heavier on his shoulder now and he curses himself for leaving his sniper back at his apartment, how could he be so stupid?

 

Ray knows he won’t be able to use it, though, not with how fucked up his arm is and how his shoulder aches from the impact on the road. Ray can feel a cut just above his eyebrow and blood is dripping into his eye and it stings but Ray is just happy that he managed to come out mostly unscathed. Ray’s lungs burn and his chest heaves as he runs, darting through the empty streets as he tries to avoid capture. All Ray has on him is his pistol, and he’d rather not have to shoot anyone tonight. Ray ducks into an alleyway, and Ray’s nose wrinkles at the smell of rot and decay; there’s a homeless man sleeping tucked up against a dumpster and his mouth is hanging open while he clutches a bottle of booze.

 

Ray does his best to ignore the man, good hand twitching as he hears a noise from further in the alley. Ray debates climbing up the dirty ladder that he can see just a few feet away or running the other way, but sirens blare and Ray only has a moment to dash further into the alley and duck into yet another side-alley before Ray hears cops yelling at the homeless man. Ray tries to calm his breathing, he’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen and the police will laugh at him as they kick his unconscious body. Ray presses his bad arm to his chest, creeping along the wall of the alley, ignoring the slime that coats the wall and stains his clothes green. Ray is pretty sure his face is beat up to high hell and the white half mask is digging into the cut above his eyebrow but he keeps it on as the last defense between him and certain doom.

 

Ray doesn’t know anyone in this city, never bothered to make connections, flesh out where anything is. Ray is hopelessly alone, and he’s got to find out how to get himself out of this godforsaken situation with a possibly broken arm and a pink pistol. Ray pulls in a sharp breath, peeking out of the alley to see the police busy harassing some poor guy who looks like he’s about to shit his pants. Ray makes a break for it, putting his injured arm at his side as he calmly walks down the street, forcing himself to go slow instead of full out sprinting like he wants to. Ray’s starting to get woozy from the pain every time someone bumps into his bad arm and he’s pretty sure part of his shoulder is raw and the cut on his forehead stings like a bitch but Ray has no one to patch him up, and going to the hospital isn’t an option.

 

Ray will worry about it once he’s safely tucked away in his shitty apartment where he can try to patch himself up. Ray walks down the sidewalk, jumping when he hears someone whispering about him. People are starting to look and Ray doesn’t need them attention right now; he needs to blend in and he needs to do it now. Ray hunches his shoulders no matter how much it hurts, makes himself appear smaller and non-threatening, and pretty soon the whispers are fading. Ray turns into an alley the first chance he gets, slipping from the thick crowd as the police trail past the alley and Ray silently flips them off.

 

Ray wanders down the alley, and the euphoria of the close-call fades and all that’s left is a bitter disappointment that his bike is wrecked and he’s pretty fucking closed to wrecked. Ray steps into some kind of market after about ten minutes of wandering, little backdoor shops that don’t appear to be selling anything quite legal enough to be sold in regular stores. Ray sees a table covered in numerous illegal guns and RPG’s, the man behind the stall eying Ray critically. Ray moves on quickly, trying not to look anyone in the eyes because he doesn’t want anyone in this particular crowd picking a fight with him.

 

Ray grows increasingly confused and skittish, flinching away from anyone and anything that so much as moves towards him, and the people milling about are giving him odd looks. Ray jumps when a hand touches his shoulder lightly and he almost pulls his pistol, jerking away as the man puts his hands up. “I’d keep that put away. People are real twitchy ‘round here.”

 

“What do you want?” Ray grits his teeth, knees wobbling underneath him. He just needs to get to his apartment, dammit, he just wants to sleep.

 

“You look pretty banged up. Do you need a doctor?”

 

“I’m fine. Thanks for your consideration, but I just need to get out of here.” The man looks unconvinced, and he looks around before waving Ray closer.

 

“I’ll get you patched up and send you on your way.” He smiles politely at Ray and Ray shuts him down quickly.

 

“Hell no. I don’t need you tracking me down later because I owe you a favor.”

 

The smile drops and the man’s eyes narrow. “Listen, asshole, you’re bleeding, you’re nursing that left arm pretty hard, and you look ready to collapse. I don’t need shit from you, but I figure you’re just trying to live like the rest of us. Accept the offer.”

 

Ray’s eyes narrow, and he debates whether he could take the guy with a broken arm. Maybe if he was hundreds of feet away and had his rifle he could, but hand to hand only works if Ray has both hands. “Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”

 

That smile is back and Ray’s skin crawls. “You’re damn right. The name’s Michael.”

 

Ray raises an eyebrow at the name; It tickles the back of his mind, but Ray can’t place why it sets him on edge. A firm but gentle hand grips Ray’s good shoulder and guides him behind a booth, ducking through a curtain covered doorway with Ray in tow. “My name’s Ray.”

 

“A pleasure.” Michael doesn’t seem to be good at small talk, but Ray isn’t really either so a tense silence falls over them. Michael knocks on a battered wooden door three times, whistling merrily as he waits. The door cracks open and Michael waves for Ray to step in, Michael closing the door as Ray looks around. There are three windows in the sparsely decorated room, all of them open to allow a breeze in. Perfect. If Ray needs to dash he can jump out of one of them. “Hey Caleb, get your ass out here. Got a fillet.”

 

“I’m not a fucking cut of fish thank you. I’m obviously a taquito.” Michael snickers and rolls his eyes, a smaller man with brown hair and a kind face shuffling in, dressed in a nurses costume.

 

“Road rash, by the looks of it. Take off your shirt and mask, and we’ll get to work. This way.” Ray follows the man in the nurses outfit, Michael wandering behind them. Ray undoes the tie to his mask with one hand, slipping it off with a wince because the dried blood had basically glued it to his face. Ray bites his lip when he works his shirt off, shoulder tweaking and shirt peeling away wet with fresh blood. The nurse guides Ray to sit on a coffee table, Michael leaning against the closed door as he watches the man work. “I’m Caleb, I patch up the guys that come through here. Michael is a sucker for the whole wounded puppy look.”

 

“I think he just likes to manhandle people.” Ray mutters, Michael snorting and cleaning under his nails. Caleb laughs and nods his agreement, poking at Ray’s left arm and wrist. Ray jerks automatically when Caleb presses into his wrist, and Caleb frowns. Ray’s wrist is puffy and swollen, and bruises are starting to appear around the skin.

 

“It isn’t broken from what I can feel, just sprained. Wear a splint for a few days and ice it on and off, you’ll be fine. Make sure to work your wrist or it’ll stiffen up.” Caleb instructs, grabbing a splint and setting Ray’s wrist before he moves onto the more serious injuries. Caleb dabs at the blood caked around the cut above Ray’s eyebrow, Ray trying not to flinch. Caleb keeps the wound closed with a couple of butterfly bandages, and the real worry starts when Caleb examines Ray’s shoulder. “Some pretty bad road rash. Nothing you need a skin graft for, but it’ll scar.”

 

“Great, scars are sexy.” Ray deadpans, Caleb snickering and shaking his head. Michael rolls his eyes at the stupid comment, and Ray’s knee jerks when Caleb pours hydrogen peroxide over his shoulder. “Fuck, warn a guy will you?”

 

“Sorry, just trying to get this done quick. I have an appointment in 5 minutes.”

 

“I’m sure whoever he is can wait.” Michael comments dryly, arms crossed as Caleb picks rocks out of a couple of the deeper scratches.

 

“Yeah, you don’t know my appointment. Pretty sure the dude would gut me if I so much as looked the wrong way at my bandages.”

 

“Sounds friendly.” Ray winces as Caleb spreads some kind of ointment over his shoulder, taping gauze over it afterwards. “We done?”

 

“Yeah, just change the bandages every couple of days or so, wash it with warm water. You two might want to leave before-” There’s a soft noise and Ray jumps up as someone slips in the window, hand going to his pistol. Ray’s hand doesn’t shake, doesn’t waver even though his heart is beating a thousand miles per minute and both Michael and Caleb are warning him to put it down. Ray can hear them yelling, pleading for him to put the fucking gun away but Ray ignores them, back away slowly from the man looking at him from behind a skull mask, head tilted curiously to the side.

 

Ray’s only got one hand in commision right now but hell, he’s going to do all he can to get away. Ray inches toward the door, pupils pinpoints, and he doesn’t hesitate to switch targets when Michael moves. “You seem decent.” Ray’s face drops into one of deadly focus and his eyes narrow when Michael takes a step forward. “I wouldn’t, Michael.”

 

“Put the gun away, dude. No one here is looking for a fight.”

 

Ray snorts humorlessly, dodging under Michael’s arm when he tries to grab Ray and disarm him. Ray clambers onto Michael’s back, hooking a leg around Michael’s throat and squeezing in warning. “Wrong. He is. He always is.” Ray points the pistol at the man near the window, and Caleb’s face is pale as the man puts his hands in his pockets. Michael gags lightly, Ray relinquishing Michael from his odd chokehold as he smoothly drops down and moves to the door. “I appreciate the help, Michael, but hopefully we won’t see each other again.”

 

“Ray.” That voice resonates from beneath the mask, and Ray grits his teeth, keeping the pistol in line with the forehead of the mask.

 

“You can’t just leave me alone, can you? Go to hell, man.” Ray spits out, tucking his gun away as he dashes out of the room, grabbing his money before leaving, blending easily into the crowd that look at all the wares on the tables. Ray hears his name called, but he walks as calmly as he can, sidestepping a man that stops in front of him. Ray left his shirt and his mask at Caleb’s house but he honestly couldn’t care less right now, he needs to move, to get away, get out of town, maybe even the country.

 

A hand clamps down on Ray’s shoulder and he’s about had enough with people manhandling him today. Ray pulls his pistol and whirls, pressing the end into the fleshy part of the person’s throat. The man is taller than Ray is, but he’s thin, and Ray debates whether or not he wants to fight. Ray sees Michael from the corner of his eye heading for the pair of them, and Ray hisses angrily, digging his gun in, finger inching over the trigger. “W-wait. We just want to-” The man sounds foreign, but Ray pays that no mind.

 

“I don’t give a fuck what you want. I’m going to walk away, and you’re going to go back to doing whatever the fuck it is you do and leave me alone. That goes for your friends, too.” Ray shoves the guy back as Michael approaches, causing the two to stumble as Ray makes his exit, sprinting down the alley until he finds his way back to the main street.

 

Ray hails a cab and climbs in, resting back against the seat as he barks out an address close to his apartment. The cabbie doesn’t say anything to Ray, and Ray doesn’t bother to try and hold a conversation. Ray throws a couple twenties at the cab driver, stepping out and slamming the door behind him. Ray walks the long way back to his apartment, making his path as unfollowable as possible for anyone who may be tailing him. Ray runs up the stairs to his apartment, sucking in deep breaths to try and slow his heart, unlocking the door and pushing it open. Ray closes it and locks it, listening to the deadbolt slide into place with a muted thud. Ray’s shoulder burns something fierce and his wrist aches, but Ray is glad he came out with only minor wounds. Ray pulls the splint off, going to grab some ice so the swelling will go down a little bit. Ray can already feel his wrist stiffening with the injury, and he moves it as much as he can.

 

Ray sits down heavily on his couch, leaning his head back and sighing loudly. “How the hell do you manage to get one of the most tenacious guys on your tail, Ray?” Ray finds that asking himself these questions puts his mind at ease, and he’s half tempted to find his bong but he’s too tired and sore to actually get up. “Fucking idiot, letting your guard down.”

 

Ray’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and how someone got the number to his burner phone is beyond him. Ray pulls it out while keeping his bad arm elevated, wiggling a little bit.

 

 **[From: ????]** : Come back to the market when you’re healed. I have a proposition for you. -M

 

Ray promptly breaks the phone and throws the pieces out his window.

 

~*~

 

It takes a few weeks and a lot of moving around crappy hotels every night until Ray is sure he isn’t being watched. His shoulder has healed nicely, no infections from the shitty beds or major damage. Ray’s wrist is back to normal albeit a bit of stiffness which Ray works hard to get rid of. Ray sits atop a rooftop, sniper rifle tucked into his shoulder as he looks through the scope. Ray steadies his breathing, his hands stop shaking, and he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, squeezing the trigger. Ray sees blood splatter on a passerby and he imagines he can hear the frantic screaming as he watches people run screaming from the now headless body slumped on the ground.

 

Ray whistles to himself as he quickly disassembles his gun, tucking it away in the case before he slings the strap over his newly healed shoulder. Ray uses the fire escape as a convenient way to get to the ground faster, dropping to the ground and crouching low automatically. Ray looks around to make sure no one is there to see him before he takes off, running down the alley and jumping over a tipped over trash can. Ray ponders going and robbing a couple convenience stores but then he remembers both his bike and his Adder are in the shop for repairs, so Ray settles on picking up another hit. Ray clicks through his phone, calling his client while walking slowly.

 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end is tense, and a little fuzzy, but Ray smiles all the same. “Who is this?”

 

“I hear the weather is nice in Jamaica.” Ray says pleasantly, using the phrase they had agreed upon when first setting up the job. “Nothing like white sand beaches and pina coladas.”

 

“It’s being wired into the account as we speak.” The voice is hushed, and Ray sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Have a nice vacation, enjoy the sun.” Ray hangs up, tucking his phone away as his hand goes to his pistol, drawing it and aiming easily. “You think you’d have learned the first time I pointed a gun at your face.”

 

“I like to lead a dangerous life.” Michael steps from the shadows, hands in his pockets and clad in a brown leather jacket. “Got a job for you, if you’re up for it.”

 

“How much?” Ray puts his gun away, leaning his weight on one leg and crossing his arms. No use doing a job if it doesn’t pay well.

 

“Fifty grand. Half up front, rest after.” Ray laughs, turning and beginning to walk away.

 

“Find me when you have a real offer.” Ray counts down from three in his head, smiling confidently when he hears Michael take a step.

 

“I’ll arrange for you to get it all up front. This guy is tricky, and it requires more finesse than me blowing him to pieces.”

 

“Lets talk over coffee.”

 

~*~

 

“First off, I don’t do up close and personal type things. Frankly I’d prefer not to see this guys mug right before.”

 

“If it was up close and personal do you think I’d hire you?” They’ve ended up in some kind of bar instead of a coffee shop, so Ray is sipping at a coke while Michael nurses a bottle of beer.

 

“Beyond the point. I need his name and home address. Any close family, friends that are going to be around him?”

 

“None. He’s here on a business trip, which is really just a way to cheat on his wife.” Michael’s lip curls in distaste and Ray laughs, slow and dark. The unfaithful ones are always the ones that give Ray the most challenge. They’re already trying to cover tracks and pay people off so that they were never in said bar with said girl.

 

“And I’m getting fifty g’s for killing this schmuck?” Ray peers at the picture Michael provided, some guy in a suit that looks overly cocky. Ray isn’t going to regret this.

 

“Yup.” Michael waves his hand, grinning ear to ear at a man with a handlebar mustache and arms covered in tattoos. “Yo Geoff, get your ass over here.”

 

Said man heads over, eyes half-lidded as he looks Ray over lazily. “Careful Michael, I’m the one serving your drinks.” Geoff drawls out, Ray looking at the tattoos on Geoff’s fingers while he talks. Ray knows all about this guy, and he knows about Michael too. It’s amazing what a little money and beating the shit out of a cop will get you. Ray just sips at his drink, listening to them bicker playfully.

 

“As nice as watching this little love spat is, I do have other things to do today.”

 

“A smartass eh? Where do you find these types, dollface?” Geoff sits in an empty chair, leaning back with his arms crossed. Michael looks vaguely displeased at the nickname, but doesn’t comment.

 

“Scraped off the side of the road and in the alleyway. Like always.”

 

“Also, you know, at gunpoint eventually. I’d apologize, but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.” Geoff laughs at that, grinning lopsidedly as Michael rolls his eyes. “You got my cash? I can hunt him down tonight with any luck.”

 

“Wired it to your account now.” Geoff qips, Ray raising an eyebrow.

 

“Domestic partnership?”

 

“You could say that. Stay close.” Geoff gets up, Michael following his movements with narrowed eyes.

 

“Your boss I assume?” Ray doesn’t have to assume, but for the sake of seeming like he didn’t dig up anything he could find on this so called Fake AH Crew and their unorthodox rag-tag group he asks.

 

“Yeah. See you later, Ray, lets try not to meet with you almost shooting me again.”

 

“No promises.”

 

~*~

 

Ray sits on the roof of the building across from the motel that the guy is going to take whatever woman he picked up back to. The night air chills Ray’s skin, but he keeps his hands warm because if he can’t feel his fingers there’s no way he’ll be able to pull the trigger. Ray pulls his beanie down a little further on his head and picks his rifle back up, looking through the scope and bracing the recoil pad against his shoulder. Ray watches his target walking up, arm  draped around a.. Man? It doesn’t matter to Ray, doesn’t change anything, and Ray thanks that the building he’s on is angled so weird because the man presses his apparent lover against the door. Ray lines the shot up, pulls in a breath of air, holds it, and without another thought pulls the trigger. Easy enough, Ray thinks as he packs his rifle quickly and slings it over his shoulder, hopping down off of the roof and taking off.

 

No need to wait around for the cops to show up, no matter how many people are found dead at shitty motels like that one. Ray hears his breathing in his ears, and he hears the dull thud of heavy footsteps running after him. Ray swears under his breath and runs as fast as his feet will take him, taking sharp turns and intentionally tipping over trashcans to slow whoever is chasing him down. Ray trips over some guy laying passed out in the middle of the alley, and for a moment it reminds him of the last motorcycle chase he was in, sailing through the air and rolling so he crashes down on his side. Ray gasps as his breath is knocked out of his lungs and he scrambles up, stumbling away. Move, get away, lose whoever is chasing him and then go get high as fuck, maybe go out to the club.

 

Ray feels a hand grab the back of his shirt and yank him to a stop and he’s being manhandled, pressed against one of the dirty walls and Ray really hates this part of the job. Ray tries to grab for his pistol but fingers wrap around his wrists and force them above his head. “ _You_ ,” The word is snarled, and Ray tries his best not to flinch. “Just cost me thirty grand.”

 

Ray tries his best not to gag at the sight of a dangerously attractive man covered in blood, bits of Ray’s target stuck in his hair. Blue eyes are wide and slightly crazed, and Ray sneers. “Go fuck yourself. I was hired, I did my job.”

 

“That’s ultimately what it’s about, right? Doing the job? Getting the money, _Ray_?” Ray flinches, shies away from that tone and that voice. The fingers wrapped around Ray’s wrists tighten and Ray is almost on his tiptoes trying to keep his shoulders from being popped out painfully.

 

“Fuck you, Ryan. You’re the one who pulled the gun on me, we were going to split the fucking cash but you got power hungry. That’s all you were after, Ryan. More power.”

 

“I was after you.” Ryan growls, breathing ragged. “Power isn’t shit to me if you’re dead.”

 

Ray arches his back, tries to push Ryan away from him but Ryan only presses harder, flattens Ray against the wall with his body. “Great job showing it, asshole. Pull a gun on me, tell me that there doesn't have to be two of us. Damn good way of saying ‘hey I fucking love you’. Fuck off with your weak lies.” Ray’s gun bag is digging into his side and Ray clenches his fists.

 

“I wasn’t going to kill you. I wouldn’t hurt you.” Ryan protests, and Ray has had it, kicking Ryan’s knee, his thigh, wherever his feet can reach until Ryan is backing away, letting Ray go as Ray scrambles to put distance between them.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing right now, showing up here?” Ray demands, angry tears in his eyes. “I spent months on the run getting away from you and our so called crew. Goddammit Rye I cried for months over shooting your dumbass and you have the audacity to try and waltz into my life again?”

 

“When have I ever done otherwise?” Ray laughs, dry and humorless, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Never. You’re like a parasite. A goddamn leech.” Ray’s voice is heavy, and he steps away when Ryan steps forward. “I tried to move on. Hooked up with a guy in Detroit. He died. Hooked up again in Alabama. He left in the middle of the night.” Ray keeps ample distance between them, moving when Ryan moves, and if someone were to walk by they’d think Ryan and Ray were doing some modern equivalent of art. “But no one was like you. Didn’t fuck the way you did, didn’t act like they owned the world, didn’t tell me they loved me. They weren’t you.”

 

“Then why were you running from me? I was always one step behind you, trying to keep up.”

 

“Because it hurt!” Ray shouts, clenches his fists and grits his teeth, blinking back tears. “Because you fucking pointed that gun at me and I saw all the times you kissed me, held me and told me you loved me and I watched it crumble. I fucking loved you, Ryan, and I still do, but it hurts. Looking at you hurts.”

 

“I’m sorry.” The admission is quiet, and Ray’s heart aches. “It doesn’t excuse what I’ve done or how I’ve hurt you but I _am_ sorry. I was wrong to be so stupid, so selfish with you and I hurt you more than I helped you.”

 

“I want to hate you.” Ray admits, looking at his hands. “It would be so much easier than this, but you’re irresistible. I didn’t touch a gun for weeks afterwards because every time I did I saw that look on your face and your body on the ground.”

 

“Ray..”

 

“I can’t just go back to how things were before. I can’t just jump back into a relationship with you after.. Everything. Please don’t ask me to.”

 

“I’m not going to. I think it’s about time I stopped deciding for both of us. I’ll.. See you around. Probably.” Ryan looks a lot less intimidating this way, shoulders hunched in shame and guilt plastered on his face. Ray doesn’t realize he’s walking towards Ryan until he goes up on his tiptoes, kissing Ryan softly before running off.

 

~*~

 

Ray finds himself back at the bar Michael and him met at earlier, lingering outside the door before deciding to go in. Ray tucks himself in a booth near the back, gun bag tucked at his feet and head in his hands. Ray’s fifty grand richer but it doesn’t feel like a victory to Ray, he just wants to go back to when things were simple, when he wasn’t living in a shitty apartment alone and getting chased by cops all the time.

 

Ray debates getting fucking smashed off his ass, but then he remembers that he doesn’t actually like any of the alcohol he’s ever tried so he settles for sitting in a bar by himself in the dead of night. Ray ignores everything around him, and why did he have to take that job? Ray contemplates this, that if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have had to see Ryan again, but he knows in his heart it was only a matter of time before Ryan caught up to him. Ryan always did.

 

Ray jumps when an arm is slung around his shoulders, and he lifts his head from where he had it resting against the table to glare at the person touching him. Geoff knocks back a swig of beer, leaning back in the booth and relaxing. “You look awful glum for someone who just got paid.”

 

"Big bucks blues." Ray mumbles, burying his face in his arms.

 

"Something bothering you? You were awful chipper before the job. Kill someone you know?"

 

"No. More like found someone I almost killed." Ray rubs his eyes, sniffling because he is totally not crying right now. Ray feels a soft hand rubbing his back and he's surprised by the gesture. Ray relaxes into Geoff's side, though, too tired and too upset to care that he probably shouldn't be getting this close to the most dangerous man in Los Santos. "Can I tell you something?"

 

"If you want. Nothing said here goes past these lips from this point on."

 

"I had a crew, back when I was younger. We ran heists, robbed places, that sort of stuff. There was this guy in my crew." Ray pauses, unsure if he wants to continue talking to a stranger. The hand rubbing his back never ceases it's movement, but Geoff hugs him closer all the same.

 

"He leave?"

 

"Sort of. We were running a heist and the rest of my crew.. They were compromised, we had to split. Ryan and I.. We were the only ones left in the city, so we took to the subway to escape. We were homebound, about to split the money of one of our biggest heists when he.. He pulled a gun on me. I panicked, and before I knew it I had shot him, and he was laying on the ground and I was so scared."

 

"Classic betrayal. You didn't expect it?" Geoff sounds sympathetic, but he also sounds curious.

 

"No. It was our plan to run, just us two. We.. We were involved."

 

"Ouch. Musta hurt to see him point that gun at you."

 

"Felt like he had already shot me. I still remember what he said to me, 'there doesn't have to be two of us, does there?' Like it was obvious."

 

"Did he show up?"

 

"Yeah. Had a job to kill the same guy for less. Chased me down."

 

"You alright?"

 

"Fucking peachy. He apologized. Part of me doesn't want to forgive him, but I.. I already forgave him. I forgave him when I shot him."

 

"Want a beer? On the house." Ray laughs and wipes at his eyes, sitting back and sniffling.

 

"I don't drink." Geoff gives Ray an incredulous look, and Ray returns the look evenly.

 

"I think I know just the thing for you."

 

~*~

 

Ray follows Geoff cautiously into the large apartment, gun bag slung over a shoulder as he looks around. "I hope you aren't going to jump me in your apartment, I'm a delicate flower."

 

"A strong wind will knock you over. Michael, Gavin, Jack! Get your asses out here!"

 

Ray walks down the steps slowly, hands in his pockets as three guys shuffle from various places. Michael grins at Ray and nods, and Ray recognizes one of the men from the alleyway, the one he almost shot in the throat. "Hey it's the bloke who went mental at Caleb's!"

 

"I guess you've met Gavin then?" Geoff comments, Ray shrugging and grinning sheepishly.

 

"I might have almost shot him."

 

"Is that a thing? Almost shooting my crew the first time you meet?"

 

"Haven't almost shot him yet." Ray motions to the bearded man, said man chuckling softly. "Nice to meet you on nicer terms."

 

Ray shakes hands with him, finds his grip firm but with enough give for Ray to know he isn't trying to intimidate. "I'm Jack. Probably the least crazy one here."

 

Geoff protests but smiles easily, walking to the kitchen to grab another beer. "Ray here needs to wind down. Figured you guys could kick his ass in video games."

 

Ray raises an eyebrow at Geoff, and Geoff looks right back. "Can you back up that statement?"

 

"Sure." Geoff says smoothly, all of them heading to the living room where an Xbox is set up. Ray takes a controller and sits on the floor, tucking his legs underneath himself while the others pile onto the couch. "Call of Duty okay?"

 

"Yup. Got a spare profile?"

 

"Download yours." Ray whistles while putting his information in, completely unfazed when he sees Gavin's jaw drop at his gamerscore. They start the game up quickly and Ray loses himself in watching the tv he's hooked up to, running around the maps and doing what he does best; sniping people from far away and commanding the game. Ray feels so much better after a few rounds of owning everybody, and Geoff throws his controller down on the couch while putting his hands up. "You're a monster, dude. How are you so good?"

 

"Playing high makes it easier to play sober." Is all Ray says, face completely serious as he headshots Michael's character.

 

"God dammit Ray!"

 

~*~

 

The others all sip at beers, and by the time 2 o’clock rolls around Gavin is passed out on top of Michael and Michael is snoring lightly, arm thrown around Gavin. Jack is leaning heavily against Geoff’s side and Geoff’s head is stipped back, fast asleep. Ray gets up quietly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and looking down at the four men. They’re certainly an odd group for the mindset he had towards the infamous Fake AH Crew, but Ray finds he likes them. They’re different than his old crew, they don’t worry about every little detail, they work on their on schedule.

 

Ray sneaks away quietly, slipping out the door without a backwards glance, heading down the stairs of the apartment. Ray tucks his hands in his pockets, walking down the streets and passing a few people. Ray whistles to himself, kicking a rock down the street while walking back to his apartment. The air is nice and cool, and Ray is glad for his hoodie because the cold doesn’t agree too well with Ray most of the time. Ray listens to the stone skid across the pavement and stops when he hears a shuffle behind him, and Ray doesn’t have time to react before a hand is covering his mouth and he’s being dragged back, stumbling as he’s tipped off balance.

 

Ray’s bag is torn from his shoulder and tossed to the side and Ray imagines the lense of his scope cracking as anger boils low in his gut. Ray wiggles in the persons grasp, tries to elbow or kick the person behind him but another person steps up, face covered in a grotesque mask as they drive their fist into Ray’s stomach. Ray coughs, doubling over as his arms are wrenched behind his back and his shoulders ache. Ray’s head snaps to the side and pain blooms over his cheek, and Ray hears a sick crunch as a knee is plowed into his nose. Ray’s glasses fall off with a tinkle of glass and Ray gasps, coughing and wheezing.

 

“Think we ought to finish him off? Send a message?”

 

“Probably. Ugly fuck anyhow, I’ll bet no one is going to miss him.” Ray sees the blade of a knife and fear strikes through him, and he doesn’t know if he screams or not as the blade is plunged into his side. Agony, white hot, washes over Ray and he thinks he can hear footsteps as he crumples to the ground, face pressed onto the dirty ground. Someone kicks him in the ribs and he chokes on his breath, whimpering in pain as they kick him again. Ray wants to reach for his pistol, he knows it’s there but his hands are shaking and his head is so full of cotton and his vision is fading fast.

 

“ _Run_.” A voice growls out, and Ray hears the scraping of metal against pavement before there’s a scream and an ugly crunch. Ray presses a hand to his side, eyes blurred by tears and his lack of glasses as he tries to crawl away. Ray makes it two feet from where they dropped him before he feels a foot push down on his back, pressing him down again and a fresh wave of pain incapacitates Ray. Ray watches through tears as the man is thrown away from him, and he sees a sledge hammer swing before the man can react and Ray watches in mute horror as the man’s head is crushed against the wall. Ray imagines he knows those shoulders, that blue and black jacket, and he hears a foggy voice as he succumbs to the black creeping at the edges of his vision.

 

~*~

 

Ray screams when pain lances through his side and face, and his back arches off of whatever he’s laying on involuntarily. Ray’s eyes fly open in time to see Caleb’s blurry form as he rushes in, shushing Ray and helping him lay back down as Ray’s chest heaves and he clenches his fist. Ray’s nose feels swollen, there’s a cut on his cheek and his lip is busted, that much Ray knows. Ray’s side burns something fierce and Caleb pulls back a bandage, showing an ugly line of stitches and blood trickling from the wound. “You tore a stitch out.”

 

Ray squeezes his eyes shut; breathes in, holds it no matter how much his side hurts, breathes out. Ray keeps his face turned away as Caleb redoes one of the stitches, putting a fresh bandage over the stitches. “I need to leave. Now.”

 

“You can’t, if you move you’ll pull your stitches and bleed out. You’re safe, Ray. No one can reach you here.”

 

“Your little shack in the alleyway isn’t exactly a castle.” Ray mutters, gritting his teeth.

 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not at Caleb’s.” A smooth voice answers, and Ray’s heart skips a beat no matter how much he wills himself not to care. “I brought you to a mutual friends.”

 

“Didn’t think you had friends.” Ray wheezes, head falling back in exhaustion as he breathes through his mouth.

 

“My social skills have improved.”

 

“Obviously. You’re saying more than two words a month.” Ray doesn’t look at Ryan, presses his lips tight together as Ryan walks into the room and sits down in the chair Caleb previously occupied. “Why are you here?”

 

“Well no one else was coming to your rescue. Figured I’d repay trying to kill you and keep you from being murdered in an alley.”

 

“How noble.” Ryan laughs softly, leaning his head in his hand. “What mutual friend are we talking about?”

 

“Geoff.”

 

“Someone mention me? I came bearing gifts. And by gifts I mean me and marijuana.” Ray looks up at Geoff, smiling weakly in amusement.

 

“Funny, you acted like you didn’t know him.”

 

“You mentioned his name once, and I was half drunk. Besides, it isn’t really my business to play matchmaker and have you two get all lovey lovey again, is it?”

 

“You talked about me?”

 

Ray glares at Ryan, feeling really irritated and overall in probably one of the crappiest moods ever. “Yes I fucking talked about you. I was upset and Geoff asked me what was wrong. You act like I’m some stoic bastard who kept his feelings in and never told anyone anything.” Ray knows it’s a low blow, and the hurt on Ryan’s face is clear, but Ryan’s face goes smooth, serene seconds later. “You’re doing it again!”

 

“I’m not doing anything.” Ryan murmurs, and Ray scowls, clenching his fists and grabbing the pillow behind him. Ray throws it at Ryan, tears in his eyes.

 

“That’s the point! You never do anything! You don’t get mad at me, you don’t tell me when I’m wrong! I fucking shot you and you came back and apologized to me and I just want _something_ from you dammit!” Ray wipes at his cheeks angrily, ignoring when his cut starts bleeding again. “Be angry, scream at me, tell me how fucked up it is that I shot you and left you for dead because I was scared of the gun you pointed at me.”

 

“It was reflexive, Ray, I don’t blame you for what happened. You reacted exactly how I would have expected you to.”

 

“Shut up!” Ray’s lower lip wobbles as Ryan sits on the edge of the bed, tucking Ray’s face against Ryan’s shoulder as he hugs Ray close. Ray thumps his fists against Ryan’s chest a couple times, staining Ryan’s shirt with tears. “I want you to be angry with me, Ryan. I want you to tell me I fucked up because I deserve it, I almost killed you and then I was so angry at myself that I pushed you away and you could have died..”

 

“I was angry. I was furious that you didn’t trust me enough to know that I wasn’t actually going to hurt you and that I had a plan but you’re right. I was stupid, I kept things to myself and I should have told you and in the end it was my fault that got me shot and it was my fault you even felt the need to pull your gun in the first place. That is why I came back to apologize to you.”

 

“I should have let you talk, before all of this. In that alleyway after I took the kill you were working on.” Ray bites his lip, wincing when his teeth dig into the injury on his lip. Ray grabs fistfuls of Ryan’s shirt, Ryan shifting closer so that Ray’s side isn’t tweaked.

 

“Would it have mattered? You were just as angry then as you are now.”

 

“I don’t know.” Ray concedes, leaning back to look at Ryan. There’s still a stain on Ryan’s skin, like he had blood on his face, and Ray’s stomach twists. “You really were in that alley, weren’t you? You saved my life.”

 

“It’s a start to apologizing properly.”

 

“A start? I think we’re pretty damn even, now.”

 

The smile that Ryan gives Ray is enough to momentarily stun Ray, and Ray feels a hopeful little flutter in his chest. “Not even close. I’m not forgiven until you love me again.”

 

“I haven’t stopped, idiot.” Ray half thinks this is a dream; there’s no way any of this is actually happening, that he’s sitting here joking around with Ryan, but the hand holding his is more than enough proof.

 

 


End file.
